Fast forward to the year 1980. Mark and I had been living for a few months in the apartment complex in Liverpool, NY. We knew a couple people in our building by this time, but not really "friendly" with any of them. Once in awhile, they would be using the washing machine or the dryer and we would chat for a few minutes. Our apartment was one of six in the building. We were on the top floor of the brick building. One night, my fabulous friend Jean came up from Oswego and Jean and I went out to Tom's Clam Cove nearby and had incredible dinner and a couple whiskey sours. I probably can count on one hand the number of drinks I have had in the past 20 years, but back when I was a younger version of myself, a good strawberry daiquiri or a whiskey sour was so good!
It was dark and after 10:00 pm when Jean drove me back to the apartment before she headed home. We visited in the car for a few minutes before I started to get out, and then realized that I didn't have my keys to the apartment with me. Jean shut off her car and came in with me to be sure I got in the door safely. The first thing we did was walk in the secure doorway of the building and push the buzzer for our apartment. Mark's car was outside so we knew he was home, but he didn't answer the buzzer right away. We pressed it again. And again. And again. We were laughing quite hard at this point because we somehow thought this was very funny.
Finally, this girl Debbie in the apartment below ours opened her door. Her hair was disheveled and she had slippers and a bathrobe on. She peeked out the doorway and said "do you need help?" And Jean and I both said "yes" at the same time. I asked if I could use her phone because unbeknownst to us at the time, there would be such a thing as cell phones one day. Debbie allowed us to come into her apartment and I dialed our number. The phone was right next to the bed in our apartment and there was also a phone in the kitchen. As we stood in Debbie's kitchen, we could hear our phone ringing above us. I thought that it was very loud and wondered what else Debbie could hear from her living quarters! After calling our apartment 5 times in a row and having nobody answer, we decided to ring the doorbell buzzer AND call him on the phone at the same time. So Jean pushed the buzzer, Debbie held the phone and waited for an answer, and I went upstairs to the apartment door and knocked and shouted Mark's name. There was no response. We could hear Mark snoring from Debbie's bedroom and I again wondered about the soundproofing in that poor girl's space.
In my whiskey sour stupor, I had a brilliant idea. I wondered if I could stand on Debbie's bed (this person I barely know) and hit her ceiling with a broom handle so it would sound like knocking on the door of the bedroom upstairs.
Debbie actually thought that was an ok idea, so she handed me a broom. Debbie held the phone and it rang and rang, Jean pushed the buzzer and I hit the ceiling again and again and again with the broom handle, all while shouting Mark's name. Debbie asked me to stop when the plaster from the ceiling came off in big chunks and landed on her bed (that she was obviously using when we woke her up!)
Finally, Mark picked up the phone and groggily said "hello." Debbie said, "your wife is locked out, please unlock the door." And you could hear Mark get up, walk across the floor and the deadbolt being released. I ran upstairs to be sure he didn't close the door and lock me out again. The door to the apartment was left wide open, he was nowhere to be seen, but he was already snoring and back in bed.
Jean and I laughed about that for years and years. Mark didn't remember any of it. Debbie never really spoke to me again! ha ha ha!
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